


Unicorn Tapestries

by Spylace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Gen, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Anachronism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tears, Temporary Amnesia, True Love's Kiss, Unicorns, Vegetarianism, aw, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy meets unicorn. Unicorn falls in love with boy. They live happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unicorn Tapestries

**Author's Note:**

> [1] This started out as a 2000 word txt file.  
> [2] There are too many ways to spell griffon.  
> [3] This is more than 10,000 words wth

Once upon a time, there was a unicorn who fell in love with a boy.

“Now that is just shameful.” Sam declared loudly to anyone who would listen. The birds tittered in reply, traitors, looking admiringly at the breadth of his shoulders and wingspan as the griffon stood magnificent in the dappled sunlight.

“He’s perfect.” Bucky sighed, eyes glued on the willowy boy.

“I mean, are we even sure he’s a virgin?” Sam asked, butting into his mental travelogue. “You’re supposed to chase virgins right?”

“He is a virgin.” Bucky asked, a nugget of worry gnawing at his chest because what if he wasn’t? He’d have _standards_ and expectations and all sorts of deviant ideas. He flattened his ears, trying to deny the thought.

“Give him some credit.” The birds fled as Natasha cast a fiery shadow over their heads. “He’s fifteen.”

“Huh,” Sam squinted. “Didn’t know they made ‘em that small.”

“Can it, both of you.” Bucky said grumpily.

Nat and Sam shared a look.

“We.” Natasha began. “Are concerned.

“Oh no, oh no, no, no.” Sam demurred. “I’m not taking part of this. The credit’s all yours.”

“...by the amount of time you spend fawning over this... human.” The firebird said delicately. That is to say, rained hellfire every time she so much as fluffed her feathers. Bucky stomped a fledgling spark when it landed in a stack of needles and gave her a smug whinny. After all, what kind of a forest guardian would he be if he let Stevie’s house go up in flames?

Granted, Steve lived quite a ways away. Outside the forest. In a human village in fact. The only time Steve left house was to run errands for his mother or to experiment with the colors he sold as dyes. In his room, Steve had hundreds of paintings big and small paperwalling his room. Steve wanted to be an artist. Bucky knew because he checked while secretly delivering apples. And the flowers. And the mushrooms humans seemed to like so much. A heavy cloak someone dropped inconveniently on a road.

He was proud of himself for the last one. It was really hard to sneak when he was big and white and glowy and every animal in a mile radius wanted to talk to him. But Bucky missed Steve something fierce on the days the boy was laid up with the cold or the flu or some newfangled plague. If Bucky lived with Steve, he’d make sure Steve never got sick.

“And we’ve lost him.” Sam yawned.

Natasha was undeterred.

“I can introduce you to Maria. You remember Maria.”

“Too short.” Bucky muttered when Steve stopped to look at a patch of grass on the side of the road. “Come on kid, your other left.”

“What?” Natasha asked, taken aback.

“Huh?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“This is pathetic. Why not talk to him? I bet he’d get a kick out of talking to a unicorn. You know how humans are.”

Natasha nodded grimly.

“They’ll cut you up and sell you for parts.”

They stared at Natasha. Natasha stared back.

“Man, you are way too paranoid.” Sam suggested.

“Why, did someone say something?”

“Just go to him.” Sam said, pushing Bucky’s side with a massive paw. “It’s getting embarrassing okay? I’m embarrassed for you. I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.”

A squirrel landed on Bucky’s back.

“Sarge! News from the front. Rumlow and his pack have been spotted!”

“Again Dum Dum?” Bucky asked. “It’s the third time this month. Doesn’t he know when to give up?”

Sam got to his feet.

“Come on lover boy, time to kick some ass.”

 

Kicking Rumlow’s ass was cathartic. The thing was, at the end of the day, everyone had someone else to go home to. All he had was the forest and his friends, Sam, Nat and the Howling Commandos. Luis the raccoon and maybe even Wanda, their friendly neighborhood witch.

It sounded like a first world problem when he put it like that in his head. But Rumlow, even _Rumlow_ had a mate to lick his wounds. Why couldn’t he have one?

Bucky was a unicorn. He never got dirty. Dirt magically sloughed off his hide. Bugs never bit him and his horn could cure the worst snakebite. Sam said that he led a charmed life but Bucky was beginning to doubt if that was true. His ears pricked up when he heard bells in the distance. He knew that sound.

“Oh no.”

He didn’t care who saw him as he galloped into the grey morning. Rain wetted him down, dulling his pearlescent coat. Through the window, he saw Stevie crying his heart out and felt something twist in his gut. Sarah Rogers was dead.

The funeral was a sorry affair. He’d seen blind mice do better. The Rogerses never had much money and Steve spent all their savings on making sure his mother had a proper coffin to be buried in. Suddenly, his offerings of interesting rocks and foliage seemed like a pittance. All this time, he should have gotten Steve gold and jewelry so that he could be rich and call the doctors whenever he got sick.

“Your forest has no gold.”

“That is not the point.”

Wanda Maximoff was a powerful, young woman whose brother had fallen into a patch of roses and was stung by cursed bees so he had to sleep a hundred years. She was pretty much hanging out, bumming off the edge of his forest while she waited. And just because she brewed tonics that tasted nice, everyone thought she was a witch.

“I am a witch.”

“So can you turn me or not?”

Wanda wrinkled her nose.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“None of your business.” Maybe it was a mistake to come. He goads, “Can you do it or do I gotta ask Vision?”

“Do not mention that name.” She snarled. He didn’t blame her. Vision was the asshole who made the cursed bees. Who made cursed bees? Assholes, that was who. “I will do it. For a price.”

He nodded; he was ready.

“What do you want?”

She thought for a moment.

The moment dragged on.

“Well?” he asked.

“You cannot rush this kind of decision.” She demurred.

“Well can I write you an IOU because time’s a wastin’, I really need to hit the road if I want to get back by nightfall.”

“There will be conditions.” She warned.

“Hit me.”

Wanda hit him.

“Ow!”

“This is serious.” She hissed tugging on his ear. “The spell will separate you from your magic. You will become human. Like your friend Steve.”

“How do you know about Steve?”

“Everyone knows about Steve.” Wanda replied impatiently. “You are serious?”

“ _Yes_.”

Wanda held her breath.

“Let this be on your head.”

The irony of the words didn’t hit until she’d wrested his horn off his face. He reared backward with a startled whinny, the top of his head brushing against his ceiling as he fell over backwards. His horn was gone. Peeled off like snake skin. Hooves melted into fingers. Fur into skin. Mane into hair. He was human.

"Holy shit."

Bucky slapped his face just to make sure.

“Here.” Wanda pressed a pearl into his hand. It sat like a cat’s eye, streaked copper and beryl. A universe restrained in a single space. “This is your horn. Hide it. Eat it if you need to change back. But it will only work once. You will not be able to become human once you turn back.”

“Cool, thanks.” And he ran out the door.

“And put on some clothes!”

 

So Bucky put clothes on, tricky little affects with arm holes and leg holes, retrieved his gift, planted his pearl under a tree and patted the earth around its roots. He whistled his way into town, holding his prize in his arms and found himself in the middle of a fight which Steve was losing. Badly.

Bucky wasn’t a unicorn but he still had plenty of practice in ass-kicking. His new body was young like Steve was but strong enough to take a hit. He hauled a boy back by his collar and tossed him aside.

“Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”

“This is none of your business!” The boy sputtered.

He flashed teeth.

“I’m making it mine.”

The boys took one long look at him and flinched when he stomped his foot.

“Get out of here.” And they scattered. Steve came back up with his fists up and blue eyes wide with shock and suspicion.

“I had them on the ropes.”

“Sure you did.” Bucky scolded. “That’s why you’ve got a busted nose and a few teeth loose. Cripes Steve, it’s like you ain’t got a lick of sense in your head.” He thrust his present in Steve’s arms as he leaned to get a better look. His eyes were really blue and his hair was as soft as he imagined it. Bucky frowned when his fingers come off bloody and fished a handkerchief from his pockets. “Hey, hey, don’t tilt your head. Let it all out.”

“Who are you anyway?” Steve asked resentfully, wiping his mouth.

Bucky beamed.

“I’m Bucky, I’m going to be your best friend.”

 

“I might have come on strong, just a little.”

Wanda hummed as she stirred a pot of paprikash. He’d been forced to take shelter at her cottage and paid up his first installment in hair. Since most people thought of the loose white strands were cobwebs, he’d gathered a bunch from the grass outside where he used to stalk Steve.

(“What are you going to use it for anyway?” “Flossing.” “Huh, oh.”)

“I mean he at least accepted my gift.”

“Mmmhm.”

“I think I need to work on this whole human thing.” He concluded.

Humans, he learned, had a job, had a house and money. Bucky had none of the above.

He started by chopping wood.

“Damn son,” Father Phillips said when Bucky graduated to cleaning the schoolhouse where he taught. “What are you doing in this hick town anyway?”

“I wanted an adventure.” He answered cheerfully.

Father Phillips muttered about fools and gold as he counted out the coins.

Bucky wondered if it was enough for a new set of pencils and a proper canvas when a familiar face blocked his path, flushed and trembling with righteous rage.

“You.”

“Stevie!”

Steve jerked back like he’d been sucker-punched. Oh right. Wanda told him to dial it down a notch. Apparently, ordinary humans did _not_ glow.

“You left this the other day.” Steve shoved the box of paint into his hands.

“Oh, this is for you.” Bucky assured him, setting his hand on top.

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I can’t afford this.”

“It’s a gift.” Bucky stressed. “Geeze Steve, do you know how many favors I had to pull to get these? They’re for _you_.”

“I don’t even _know_ you.”

“I’m Bucky.” Bucky said helpfully. “And you will. I am going to be your friend Steve.”

“You can’t by friendship.” Steve said firmly. “Thank you but not thank you. Please take it back.”

“But.”

Bucky’s heart ached from the disappointment when Steve walked away. Maybe humans didn’t like gifts. Being human was hard.

 

He couldn’t buy friendship but he could buy food. Bucky felt physically ill at the scent of boiled ham and fried chicken so he took a loaf of bread to starve off the aches in his stomach.

It was much easier to be a unicorn he thought. The forest had always fed him. Fruit fell from trees. Grass grew on the ground. Silver streams tickled his throat when he was thirsty. Now he had to stand in line for a lousy bucket of water that didn’t even taste good. Water in the fen was foul with bubbles.

He was the most miserable he had been since before his life in the forest. But when he saw the knowing look in Wanda’s eyes, the sight of the trees which held his precious horn, he knew he couldn’t give up.

It was his third week at the village when Steve stumbled over him, late after a day at the market. He was napping with the cats in a hay pile. The cats poked him awake and he felt a grin tug at his face at the sight of his boy, bruises and all, his fingers dyed black and violet from paint.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, taking in his frayed clothing and sunburnt skin.

“Yeah, just sleepin.” He patted the pile of hay. “It’s nice.”

Steve took a sharp breath.

“You don’t have a place to live?”

“I live here.” Bucky said, spreading his arms out wide.

Steve looked around. Saw a barn, a cow and a flock of sheep all under an open sky. At Bucky’s expectant look, he seemed to melt. Ice receding from the blue in his eyes like a springtime thaw.

“I have an extra room at my house. And I could use the rent. Or labor.” Steve said hastily, addressing his feet. “It’s too big sometimes.”

“Are you inviting me home?” Bucky asked in wonder.  

Steve blushed. “I just think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.”

“Bucky...” Humans had two names. He had to think fast. Oh there was a barn behind him. “Barnes?”

Steve held out a hand.

“Well Bucky, I’m not sure about friends but I’d sure be glad to have a roommate.”

“Really?” He sprang to his feet. The cats yowled in protest. “You won’t regret it!”

Steve looked like he was regretting it already.

 

Steve’s house was an apothecary. Bucky ducked under the ropes of garlic wondering how he’d missed that. He thought he knew everything about the boy who proudly showed him around the house, where he would eat, sleep and wash.

After dinner, while he cleaned the dishes, Steve gathered tiny bottles with pills in them, tinctures of powder and bottles of sweet syrup and poured them in cup. The ingredients smelled foul and churned the peas in Bucky’s stomach. He was throwing those out the first chance he got. Even if he couldn’t draw the frost from Steve’s lungs or knock the rash off his knees, he just knew the concoction couldn’t be good for his boy.

He began to wander into Steve’s room after they had retired to bed, wondering if he wasn’t an idiot for staying human. If he was a unicorn, he could tap Steve twice with his horn and he’d be healed. But he let his hand spread across the bird-thin chest and willed the congested lungs to breathe. For Steve to live.

It hurt to hear Steve cough. When winter finally hit, the boy seemed to fade before his eyes. Bucky had drawn enough water to run a bath for them both and as Steve stripped down, he couldn’t help the small gasp that flitted past his lips. Steve was all skin and bones! The first coat of wax on a wick.

“It’s fine.” Steve sighed as he all but melted into the lavender-scented water. “I always get lose weight in winter.”

It didn’t stop Bucky from piling the boy in blankets and wrestling him into his arms when the fire got too low. He pinched the skin on Steve’s hip and scowled when he got nothing.

Steve took all this astride even though they weren’t really friends. Bucky was just a roommate that cared. A lot.

In the past, Sarah Rogers had made a modest earning doctoring winter ailments. It was Bucky’s responsibility now to see them both through winter but he didn’t know how. Steve couldn’t eat grass nor could he get fat on a diet of vegetable stew.

The answer came to him unexpectedly while he was foraging for food in the woods. One moment, he was digging up roots and tasting them to see if they were safe to eat, the next, he was face down in the snow, hot breath washing over the back of his neck, as Sam landed on top of him.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Sam roared. “Do you know how worried we’ve been?! It’s been a year. A year with no word and I had to hear from Luis! Luis! A raccoon! Not cool man! Not cool!”

Luis that traitor. He scowled. He only asked the raccoon if he knew where to find squash.

“What the hell did you do this time?”

Bucky rolled onto his back. 

“I wanted to be human.”

“No you do not, look at you. You’re all skinny. You don’t have horns, you don’t have _claws_. You’re defenseless!”

Sam pawed at him frantically like the humanness was something he could wipe off.

“Stop that.” Bucky flicked Sam on the beak.

“Come home Bucky.” Natasha asked, feathers blowing steam into the air. She put on her most disapproving face as she stared at him, eyes like amber drops in her skull, more beautiful than any bauble at the market or the stained glass windows at Father Phillips’ school.

He swallowed. He’d been meaning to get Steve a present for Yuletide. Five coins, one big one and four little ones for a necklace with a fake sapphire.

“I can’t. Steve’s all alone.”

“This is not what I meant when I told you to talk to him.”

Sam sat on top of him, solid and warm. Bucky hugged him. Humans could hug. So he hugged him. He missed this—he missed Sam. “It’s done. I’m not turning back and you can’t make me. I hid my horn.” He added in case Natasha took it as a challenge.

Sam sighed.

“What are you doing out here anyway? It’s dark out.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t noticed. The forest was his home. It didn’t matter if it was daylight or sundown. The forest was. The trees seemed to welcome him as the wind rattled through the branches.

“Your boy will be worried. Humans are sensitive like that.”

“But I haven’t found anything to eat.” Bucky said helplessly, feeling out of depth.

Sam let him up.

“You’re kidding right? The woods are full of game.”

“Game?”

“Bucky.” Sam straightened his wings and curled his claws in the most ridiculous way. “What am I?”

“You’re Sam.”

“I thought we covered this.” Natasha whispered in a loud voice.

“No, I taught him the bird and the bees. You were supposed to teach him about obligate carnivores.” Sam poked her with a claw. Affronted, she took to the trees and lit the air like a torchlight.

“Steve needs food Bucky.” Sam explained. “He can’t live on roots and tubers like you can.”

“You mean.” Bucky was struck by sudden horror.

Natasha chuckled low in her throat.

“You need to hunt.”

 

“I wish I was a unicorn.”

“What’s that Buck?” Steve asked absentmindedly, hugging Becca to his chest.

He had fibbed, only a little, and told Steve he found her injured in the woods. Sam had given him a rabbit to practice his hunting except he couldn’t do it. She was so small and yellow. She reminded him of Steve and he hissed at her to play dead as he pretended he’d made this great kill.

Which did not solve the problem at hand. Bucky didn’t want to eat meat but Steve had to. He began to work extra hours, he’d never needed that much sleep and cold medicine usually kept Steve sleeping well past the rooster’s crow, earning that extra buck for cured meat that he only had to cut. Bucky grimaced when he rubbed the slippery fat between his fingers, whispering a prayer for every and all souls that came to rest beneath his palms.

Fish was a little more bearable. But Steve did find him once, heartbroken, after burying fish heads in the back garden. Steve hugged him and Bucky was on cloud nine for most of that week.  

“You waitin’ on someone Steve?”

Steve shook his head. But Steve also kept looking out the window like he was expecting someone to show up. Sometimes, he’d get up right after the morning tea to look out the window, disappointed when he only saw Bucky waving back.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you get the mark on your shoulder?”

“It’s a reminder.” Bucky said, rubbing the edges of a red star. It didn’t hurt. But he remembered the smell of burnt hair and terror when he was branded beneath the stone. Hmm, a bad memory. All better now. He escaped in the end. Natasha found him and led him to the forest.

“Of what?”

“Of the good times to come.” Bucky drew Steve into a one-armed hug and listened to his lungs cramp and spit out air. He decided he’d ask the girl at the market if she’d take eleven small coins instead of the original price. He was going to give Steve the best present yet. Bucky smiled into Steve’s hair. “I’m glad I found you.”

 

Winter drew to an end and it was miserable. The world was dark and grey and the melting snow only felt like it was building towards something when in fact, it held everything in suspense. Steve scowled as he was wrapped twice in scarves and a woolen coat Bucky traded for a leather jacket. The blue fabric drooped around the shoulders and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“You’ll grow into it.”

Steve gave him a look that said _are you kidding me?_ And Bucky ruffled his hair.

“Make sure you come back before sundown. Stay on the path and eat the food I pack you. I worked hard on it. I even got a sampler from Wanda for your cold.”

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s just the sniffles.”

Bucky ignored Steve because Steve was sick. You didn’t listen to sick people.

“And remember, if you get tired, go to Wanda’s. I’ll come get you. She and I have an understanding.”

A shadow flitted over Steve’s face.

“Yes ma.” Steve muttered and immediately held a shaky hand to his mouth, looking stricken. “I...”

“Woah, hey, Steve.” Bucky soothed, drawing him into a hug. He rubbed his back, drawing off an attack before it swelled his throat. “It’s alright. It’s okay to miss her.”

“You didn’t even know her.” Steve said with a small hiccup. “You don’t even know _me_.”

“Sure I do. You’re Steve. You’re a stubborn cuss who doesn’t know when to stay down. Maybe you should find a crowd that don’t find your face so offensive.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Steve asked.

“It’s a fine face, a good face.” He poked Steve’s forehead and was delighted to see some of the pallor recede. He still got it. “I like your face just fine the way it is. Stop picking fights with Hodges.”

Steve puffed up like Sam when he was molting.

“I ain’t the one picking fights Buck. And he keeps bothering Debby.”

“Debby can handle herself.”

Bucky rewrapped the scarf which had come loose around Steve’s neck. Steve was warm, not hot but pleasantly warm. He’d eat pea soup until he died if they could keep him like this for a week.

He shouldn’t let Steve go to the forest when it was so cold out, but they needed the money. Lots of women liked the rarer colors like blues and violets so Steve was always off, harvesting flowers that wouldn’t even bloom until the next moon.

“And,” he said, just because he didn’t want Steve leaving sore. “You’re my friend. I know you.”

“You mean that?” Steve asked his feet. Bucky tilted his face up.

“I sure do. Told you, I’m going to be your best friend.”

Steve blushed, slapping his hand away.

“You’re my only friend.”

“So I’ll be the bestest one.” Bucky rationalized. “Swell. Mission accomplished. Rubicon crossed.”

“I’m going now.” Steve said loudly, hoisting a bag on his shoulder.

Bucky leaned against the doorway.

“Don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

“How can I? You keep all my stupid with you.”

 

Bucky gave Steve a fifteen minute head start before tracking him to the edge of the woods. And as much as he’d like to follow Steve, he promised Miss Cole that he’d paint her fence. He clicked his tongue and familiar faces popped out from the underbrush.

“Sarge!” Dum Dum yelped as though he’d been pinched. “What are you orders?”

“Follow Steve. Protect him at all costs.” He added. “And try to nudge him to the big sycamore if you can. It’s a lot covered there.”

“Aye, aye Sarge.” Gabe said lazily, saluting with a webbed paw.

 

Bucky went to work. He said hi to everyone he met. He was fairly popular around town though he didn’t think much about it. Thought it had a lot to do with being a unicorn.

Wanda gave him a dry look when he mentioned it over lunch, dropping by to deliver sealing wax. Since Wanda was the only one who knew about his obligate vegetarianism, he helped himself to a lettuce sandwich she had set aside for him.

“Barb likes you.” She said without a disclaimer.

“Say what?” He said with a stuffed face.

“Barb, she follows you around yes? She likes you.”

Barb, or Barbara, was a pretty redhead whose father was the local butcher. He shuddered.

“How can you tell?” He asked. “Lots of people follow me around.”

“Not all of them ask for love potions.”

“What?!”

“Do not worry,” Wanda assured him, throwing a handful of parsley in her potion. It looked and smelled a lot like soup. “I told her I am not that kind of a witch. You already have a keeper.”

“Damn straight.” He muttered, wondering how much he’d have to stretch to make the ends meet this week. There was a joint of ham left in the cellar, best eaten before the hibiscus bloomed. And a cheese wheel he’d gotten off Widow Porter for fixing her door.

He looked around the bubbling pots and vats of perfume.

“What are you doing here Wanda?”

“I live here.” Wanda replied archly.

“Yeah, but why here? Why not at the castle?” He knew humans loved castles. The bigger the better—kind of like him always trying to stretch his territory, wondering when he’d hit a border or a fence of another unicorn.

“I like it here.” The witch shrugged. “It is... safe.”

“It is.”

He understood.

They were too minor a village for any wars to take their children away. But that didn’t stop the rumors from circulating or the men who signed up anyway and returned broken in more ways than one. In his second year as human, he’d stayed up at nights ears aching from half-born nightmares of villagers who could no longer sleep.

“I should be out there fighting.”

“Steve.” Bucky groaned.

“It’s my duty as a royal subject Buck!”

He set the boiling alder bark aside.

“And who’d take you huh?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What about you?” Steve demanded accusingly. “Weren’t you the one who was always going on about adventures?”

“Yeah and I found that the greatest adventure was with you.”

It was not in any way, shape or form, an understatement. Bucky shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling shy. The false sapphire weighed heavy in his pockets where he kept it safe, taking it out every so often to look at shimmer. It was real pretty. He couldn’t tell that it was fake. And he didn’t know how to give it to Steve without making Steve feel bad and spitting mad.

But Steve wasn’t mad. He looked sad.

“Don’t say it like that. Don’t you joke about this.”

“It’s not a joke.” Bucky said in exasperation. He took Steve’s orange-tipped hand. Their hands matched fingertip to heel, thumb to pinky. “There ain’t no dame or treasure that’s going to make me leave.”

“What about Lorraine? And Dot?”

“What about them?” He asked in genuine confusion. They were nice girls. He didn’t know Steve was interested in them. Had he missed something? “You sweet on ‘em?”

“No, no,” Steve shook his head. He looked at Bucky with a hangdog expression. Something brittle set on the edge of his mouth. “It’s just, what did I do to deserve you?”

“You were a warrior.” Bucky predicted. “Strong and wise. You saved your kingdom from a greedy king and married a beautiful princess and fathered half a dozen children just like you. You gave to the poor and fed the needy. No one ever got hungry or sick on your watch. Everyone cried when you stepped down.” 

Steve snorted with mirth. Face gone red as he bottled all his laughter inside, stored in the bones. Bucky’s arm came up and wrapped around the slender waist. “And that’s how you got me.”

He kissed Steve’s forehead. It was something he’d seen humans do and his lips lit on contact like he’d swallowed one of Natasha’s feather’s whole. Heat spread through his stomach, down his belly and up until it felt like he’d been set on fire. Light sparked from behind his eyeballs and he sought refuge in Steve’s stunned expression, the blue in them reminding him of the summer skies.

“I’m with you till the end of the line.”

 

Years passed in a blink of an eye. Bucky had never been happier. Every morning, when the sun shone into the bedroom room like a little parcel of heaven, hitting Steve in the face until he either squirmed or shoved a pillow on his face in a aborted suicide attempt, the boy woke blinking once in each eye and smiled real slow at the sight of Bucky and his cup of tea, boiling hot just the way he liked it.

Steve, though never as tall or as strong as the others, lived through every winter the soothsayer clucked that he would die. Bucky toiled hard every day and went home to a boy who was fast becoming a man.  

They weren’t rich and they didn’t have to be. But they had enough that Steve didn’t hesitate to pick up a pencil to draw in the evenings. He became well renowned as an artist who captured the spirit of his subject—mainly people but sometimes the landscape, their village and even Bucky.

It was their fifth year living together when a trumpet sounded in the distance heralding the royal patronage to their backward village. People scrambled to prepare a feast for their queen. Father Phillips quickly gave his blessings and organized the village children into a miniature army. Women dusted rouge on their faces. Men wiped their necks and the back of their ears. Bucky could have told them not to bother. He knew something they didn’t.

Queen Margaret, or Peggy as she styled herself, strode into the village square on her white charger. Petals wreathed the ground as she dismounted. She took one look around the village, the working class, the poor and handed out fistfuls of gold to everyone in attendance, seeds from far-off exotic places, bags of sugar, and a goat.  

The villagers blessed the queen and kissed her ring. She was the people’s queen, a damned good queen, and that made Bucky fear her.

She stopped in front of Steve who stood in awe.

“My advisors tell me you are an artist.”

“Yes your grace.” Steve stammered.

“He’s the best your grace.” Bucky butted in. “You’d best strike the others off your list. You want a portrait done, Steve’s your man.”

“Bucky.” Steve hissed, elbowing him in the side.

The queen’s cool gaze cut into him and he swallowed, forcing himself to stand still, as scared as the first time he’d been placed in the hands of men and the red-white glow of a brand settling on his left shoulder.

“I shall be the judge of that.” She held out a hand. “Come.” She said to Steve and led him to the royal carriage which had been opened up like a box, revealing boxes filled with paints and pigments and pencils and canvases. “You will draw for me. Choose what you’d like.”

“What should I draw?” Steve asked anxiously.

“You’re drawing a portrait of course—do you know nothing?” Said a sour-faced miscreant with a twirling mustache. He waddled to the carriage and pushed Steve aside, fat hands groping for a modest canvas and oil paints near the back. Well how the hell was Steve supposed to know? They just showed up out of nowhere like their mas taught them no manners.

Bucky made a face at Steve but held his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin this for his boy. It had always been Steve’s dreams to draw and _finally_ , someone recognized his talents.

After gathering up what they needed, Steve, the painter, the queen and all of her guards retired to the schoolhouse. Bucky hung around for a while, in case Steve needed him. The white charger the queen rode on nickered to him appealingly and Bucky offered it a bit of bread in his pockets and clapped its shoulder, whispering messages of flattery and welcome in its heavy ear.

Steve returned late that night, clutching a leather-bound sketchbook stamped with the royal seal. Face colored with more than light exercise as he kicked off his boots.

“Bucky!” He said in delight at the spread on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

“To your success.” Steve spun easily in his socks. “Working for the queen now. You’re moving up in the world.”

“Aw shucks Buck.” Steve blushed. “I’m just happy she liked my drawings.”

“Of course she did.” He scoffed, spooning generous portions of candied yams and bean casserole on Steve’s plate. “She’d have to be blind if she didn’t like them.”

“Bucky.” Steve scolded though his voice lacked heat. There was an edge of helplessness rounding his face. Like he was mighty pleased and was trying to hide it. “She’s the queen!”

“I call ‘em as I see them.” Bucky challenged. “Now tell me everything.”

Steve gave him a sweet look and snuck a quick kiss on the cheek. He had to stand on his tiptoes to make it work but well, Bucky had a grin hanging from ear to ear as he slung an arm down Steve’s back and laid a wet one, big and sloppy, on his kisser before it dissolved into a raspberry from their laughing.

“I love you.”

Bucky didn’t know how else to describe it. His heart squeezed painfully when he said it but he was so happy. “I love you.”

 

Steve was called upon early in the morning like an army grunt. Bucky scowled at the messengers as Steve hurriedly downed his peppermint tea, eyes pinched from the lack of sleep. He had been too excited for bed the night before and Bucky, like an idiot, had indulged him as they held each other and just talked under the sheets.

Steve was paid handsomely for his services. Bucky had never seen so many coins in one place. Big ones, small ones and even a pendant of fleur-de-lis. He sat idle in the back garden willing the plants to grow faster. His body was used to work and ached from inactivity but everyone was at the village square celebrating. They didn’t have work for him. Nobody wanted him for work.

He packed a few dishes in a bag and went to the forest to have lunch with Sam, Nat and the Commandos. Sam grudgingly admitted that vegetarian meatloaf was good but took the lion’s share of pan-fried trout.

At Wanda’s house, he distilled an oil of brick and complained bitterly that this was not what he had in mind when he gave her an IOU.

Steve hadn’t returned by the time he got home. The food he reheated went untouched and he put it away, parking himself in a chair waiting because it was Steve. He would have waited even if he knew his boy wasn’t coming. But Steve hadn’t said anything about staying out. Steve was coming home.

The doorknob turned well past midnight. Steve saw Bucky and his shoulders folded inward.

“You’re late.” Bucky said, stamping out any traces of reproach when he saw bags under bags under Steve’s eyes. He ushered Steve inside and sat him down on his favorite chair, unlacing his boots and hissing at the swollen ankles. “Thought she was the queen, not a slave driver.” He griped as he pulled at the big toe and dug his fingers into the meat of his heels.

“Oh, that feels good.” Steve moaned.

“It ain’t right that she has you working from sunup to sundown. There are laws against that sort of thing.”

“You can’t report the queen, Buck.” Steve sighed. Bucky scowled at the plans thwarted and handed him a plate of cold cuts and cheese. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing important.” Bucky said. He couldn’t exactly tell Steve he’d been out in the forest hanging out with woodland creatures that talked. “I put the seeds in the garden, if it does sprout, it’s gonna make a nice shade for you.” Steve spooned the soup in his mouth. “Oh and I got something from Wanda’s. For your lungs. Wanna try it?”

There was a long pause as Steve set his plate aside. “Nah.” He sounded odd. Like he was trying to hide something. Bucky tilted his head trying to catch the echo of an echo fluttering inside the boy’s cheeks.

“Steve?”

“’m tired Buck.” Steve mumbled, leaning back.

“Oh no you don’t.” Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Woah, hey!” Steve yelped, throwing his arms around his neck.

Bucky pulled him into a bridal carry and took him to bed. They crashed on the mattress together with Steve on top, Bucky only slightly winded as the boy ‘accidentally’ punched him in the ribs.

“Hey Buck.” Steve said to the dark, voice very small.

“Yeah Steve?”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong right?”  

“No.” He snorted. Steve hit hard. He was going to end up with bruises. “Because nothing’s wrong, nothing’s going to be wrong. You’re just stupid.” He rolled them over into a cocoon with just enough room that Steve could breathe. Their knees knocked together and lungs filled in tandem, one after the other, Steve first then Bucky as though he was trying to show him how. “Now get some sleep, big day tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Sleep. Steve. Sleep.”

 

Someone was going to cry favoritism at this rate—Bucky thought as he snuck the Queen’s mount a carrot.

Still, he was in high spirits. Wanda had finally released him from his bondage and summer solstice was coming up; the perfect time to give Steve his presents and not get flack for it. He stared at the false sapphire in his hand and thought of the fleur-de-lis hung in the place of honor back home. The imitation jewelry was plenty shiny for him but then he couldn’t judge, he was a unicorn. There was money to afford something better but that was Steve’s money. It wouldn’t be right to touch it. He went to the market began looking, just looking when Lorraine called—“You buying or no Barnes?”

He flashed her a smile. “Depends on what you’re selling.”

Lorraine raised an eyebrow.

“For you, voila.”

She took out a drawer from under her usual display. They were promise rings, lovingly made.

“How much?” He asked, unaware he’d said anything until she batted her eyes.

“For you? A kiss.”

“Aw geeze Lorraine.” He rubbed the back of his ear. “Whatever the hell would you want a kiss for?”

“You gotta ask Barnes?” And she turned her face up expectantly. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning at the very last minute so that his lips grazed her cool cheeks. But anyone who was watching would have thought it a proper kiss from the way she laughed, tossing her blonde mane over her shoulder as she showed off a promise ring of her own.

“You’re something else Barnes.” Lorraine laughed. “But here, a kiss is a kiss.”

“Thanks doll.” He said, pocketing the ring.

“Steve’s a lucky man.” She teased.

Bucky hummed in agreement when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. It was Steve.

“Steve, hey Steve!” He bid Lorraine a hasty goodbye and ran after his boy. But Steve must not have heard him because he didn’t stop to wait for Bucky. He disappeared, poof, like smoke. Bucky went home feeling like he’d done something wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t Steve. He consoled himself. It wasn’t Steve.

 

Bucky was not an artist. What looked good, looked good and what Steve drew looked great. He didn’t know why it took so long for the queen to decide that he was the better man but he wasn’t an artist. He was just a unicorn.

Steve was in a blue summer coat. A gift from the queen who was fast becoming his friend. She’d seen a kindred spirit in Steve, fierce and loyal at heart, trying to do his best in a world that didn’t want to see him succeed.

“You moving out?” He teased, disquieted when Steve didn’t refute him immediately.

“I just can’t seem to get the colors right.” Steve complained, tucking his hair back and straining the wheat-gold strands green. He mixed red and brown together to make more red and Bucky rubbed his left shoulder unconsciously as he leaned in for a better look, and really look, at the portrait Steve had been commissioned to paint.

“Queen Peggy really is something isn’t she?”

“She’s the queen. She’s a great lady. The greatest who ever lived.”

Steve squeezed the tubes of paint but his eyes were somewhere else. Fixed, not on the pencil lines across the canvas, but on something out of reach and intangible. Bucky knew what it was. He saw it every day in the mirror.

“I have to go.” Bucky said numbly.

“Already?” Steve squinted. “But I thought we were going to have lunch together.”

“I just remembered.” Blood thundered in his ears like bells. His fingers stumbled against the back of Steve’s chair, calmed only when they met skin to skin, thumb pressing down on the knobs of his spine. “Errands, yeah, I have errands.”

It was pathetically selfish of him but Bucky ran, pocket heavy with the false sapphire and the promise ring. He breathed hard and fast when he stumbled through the door. Kind of like when he had to chase Rumlow out of his forest but this was just a run to his house. It hadn’t even been that far. He was human and—oh, he was human.

It was hard being human.

He knew. Wanda told him. Humans had a job, had a house and money. Humans also had parents, spouses and children. What did he have? Humans loved, got mad, jealous, sad and greedy like the king who’d caught Bucky when he was young and stupid, held inside the stables and freed only when he’d grown strong enough to jump his fence and run away, into the forest where his friends had been waiting as though made just for him.

He was a creature of the forest, magical. The odd skip of his heart was unfathomable.

But he loved Steve.

Bucky pinched his stomach. He was no woman; he couldn’t give Steve children. There were women in the village but he didn’t think he could stomach it. Queen Peggy was a woman. She could marry Steve and Steve would be rich and paint for pleasure instead of food and security.

Steve was kind enough not to mention his weirdness from the afternoon.

“The court magician has this machine that captures the images on paper so Peggy doesn’t have to be there all the time. You should have been there. Bet you would have understood it better than I did.”

Bucky made noncommittal noises like, “that’s nice”, “excellent”, “breathe Stevie”, “eat your vegetables”, and “good job” as bit into an apple.

“This is just the beginning. Peggy’s going to give me a royal commission—we’ll be rich Bucky! You won’t have to work so hard anymore.”

“That’s great.” Bucky smiled reflexively wondering why his cheeks ached.

“Hey Bucky?” Steve asked, staring from under the sweep of his eyelashes. “Peggy asked me to come to the castle to finish the portrait. You know, since she has the materials I need. I was wondering.”

Bucky pushed back on his chair.

“I think I hear the water’s boiling.” He said hastily and excused himself from the table.

He cried bitter tears into the soup wishing that Steve would stay with him.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

Bucky hardly recognized his own voice. But in a sleepy fugue, Steve opened his mouth and Bucky eagerly squeezed against him, teeth scraping the boy’s bottom lip until it was spit-shiny and red.

“Have to go to work.” Steve grunted.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah, yeah, go get ‘em tiger.”

As soon as Steve finished his cup of tea, Bucky hit the ground running. Just running until his lungs ran out of air. Bucky thought he’d run a thousand miles but when he looked back, he saw trees, trees, trees and the narrow, wooded path where he used to stalk Steve.

Sam dropped out of the skies, sensing his distress.

“Woah, woah, woah, what the hell’s going on?”

“Steve’s in love with her.”

Bucky’s voice cracked straight through the middle like his heart had. He buried his face in Sam’s mane and Sam instinctively folded a wing over his head like he was a baby or something.

“And I can’t even blame him for it.” He cried. “She’s perfect. She’s the _queen_. And I’m... me.”

“Bucky, you are perfect the way you are. Steve’s lucky to have you.” Sam consoled loyally.

“Then why am I so miserable?!”

Sam settled down with a huff, letting him cry until the tears ran out and turned into diamond dust on his feathers.

“Love is like that. Relationships are like that.” A massive paw landed on his shoulder. “Did you even ask how he felt before you decided to run your fool head off?”

He sniffled. “He said he wanted to go live with her. In a castle.” He gave an outward shudder, clutching the star on his shoulder.

“But you love him?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded. He loved Steve.

Sam pushed at him.

“Then think like a unicorn. You don’t give up on love. Fight for your boy.”

“You’re right.” Bucky said in relief.

“I know.” Sam scoffed. “That’s why I’m the smart one.”

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Being human was awful. He wanted to be a unicorn again except then he couldn’t be with Steve.

Sam jumped to his feet when they heard a rustle.

A young woman came stumbling out of the trees.

“Buchannan!” It was Wanda. No one in the forest called him by that name. “Steve. He collapsed. Father Phillips is with him now. You must come!”

Bucky ran like the devil when he heard those fateful words. He quickly outstripped Wanda, vaulted over fences and to his house where a crowd had gathered. He shoved past the royal guards, elbows pressing into soft places because this was his house. It was Steve’s house and they had no business being inside, under ropes of garlic, touching their things, looking at their stuff, and crossing themselves before the fleur-de-lis which hung from the place of honor.

The queen’s physicians muttered over him and shook their heads in the slow, ponderous swing of bells at a funeral which had his blood boiling. Bucky knelt at Steve’s side, took in the grey cast of his face and knew.

“This is my fault.”

“Send for Dr. Erskine.” The queen said in the background.

But no human doctor could cure this. Steve’s sweat tasted of wild magic that sang in his blood.

The soup. Bucky realized with a sinking feeling. Steve drank the soup that he cried in. He thought he’d gotten rid of his magic when his horn fell off. Bucky made Steve sick.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda,” He muttered when he felt the witch at his side. Everyone gave her a wide-berth—everyone but the queen who stared imperiously at their dirty faces and mended clothes. “You’ve got to do something.”

It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t Wanda’s fault.

Eventually, they were asked to leave the room.

“You must let the doctors see him.” The queen said firmly. “Steve is a fighter. He will recover.”

Bucky stared out the window and thought of rain.

“Yes he will.”

 

It didn’t take long for him to find his horn. He hadn’t hidden it well but it was buried, undisturbed, knotted in tree roots.

By the time he snuck back into Steve’s room, it was nearing midnight. The villagers had gone home but the queen and her staff were standing vigil, waiting for the moment Steve’s heart would give out. He heard Father Phillips say the last rites over his friend as though he was already dead. Bucky clutched the pearl of his horn in his hand. He didn’t have time.

“Hey Stevie,” He said. “You look like shit. See what happens when you don’t eat your breakfast?” He didn’t dare get into bed beside Steve but lad his ear against the boy’s shoulder, feeling his chest rise and fall in shallow beats against his head. Tears wet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I swear Steve, I was going to stay human.”

He laid the false sapphire pendant on the pillow.

After a moment, he placed the promise ring on Steve’s finger.

“I love you.”

He swallowed the pearl.

His body melted like water. He forgot how much taller he had been as his horn touched the ceiling. His hindquarters bumped against the wall. Hooves getting caught on the rug. How stifling everything was—and Bucky had lived here thinking this was all life had to offer.

“But I loved it.” Bucky pleaded. “I could come and go whenever I wanted and I could be with you.”

Bucky blew across Steve’s face and nuzzled his boy, lipping the strands of sticky hair and tasting salt across his teeth. He wanted to chase the fever from his blood like he’d seen Sam chase deer. Maybe if he hadn’t been so foolish, maybe if he ate meat, like a normal human being, he wouldn’t have been so greedy.

“I didn’t mean it.” Bucky whispered. “You can go. I just wanted you to be happy.”

He tapped the point of his horn against Steve’s chest. At once, Steve began to breathe easy as the spell drew back to Bucky. Bucky thought how strong Steve was to live with this. To live with the pain. Five years and he had never noticed. Bucky was a bad friend.

A terrible thought occurred.

But what if Bucky left?

There would be no one to take care of him. No one to remind Steve to put on an extra sweater or bring him tea in the mornings. He danced anxiously in place, hooves clip-clopping as he made a decision.

“You’re going to be strong.” Bucky promised. “You’re gonna be sick no more—you hear me Steve? You deserve everything.”

 

Wanda’s eyes widened when she saw Bucky standing over Steve, head lowered and half asleep. He turned to her with a defiant snort, the proud spire of his horn, its absence, drawing her eye like a needle to a pole. Bucky neighed at her.

“Oh you poor _fool_.”

Bucky nuzzled her. I’m okay. I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.

After making sure Steve’s fever had broken, Wanda threw a spell over him to make sure he could not be seen by human eyes. They quickly made way to her cottage at the edge of the woods where Natasha was waiting, her feathers burning dull ember in the shadows.

She pecked his ear and dropped little red flowers on the earth. He had a sense, he was supposed to do something with them but when he failed to react after a moment, the flower growing bigger and bigger, Wanda smothered it under her pretty feet.

“Where is his horn?”

“He gave it away.”

Wanda patted him on his neck and it felt good. He pushed against her, demanding. And he remembered Natasha. Her name was Natasha! He nuzzled her yellow breast, breathing into the smell of pepper and smoke. The red flowers fizzled into bits of ashes on his forehead.

“We need to call Sam.”

The predator was scary! But the predator was playful like cubs at play. Bucky allowed the predator to come near and brush shoulders with him. He relaxed his guard. Sam was fine. Sam was okay. Sam was a friend.

In the morning, maybe the next, maybe the one right after because the sun came up and it looked the same like it was making rings round and round. He saw a boy come up the narrow path in the forest.

Bucky knew the boy. He trotted along the woods, creeping really because he knew it was important that the boy didn’t see him. The boy was in skin too big for him and he was calling out words that sounded a lot like his name.

“Hey, there.”

Natasha landed on his back. She was so light! He bet that the boy was light and whinnied in protest. He didn’t want Natasha on his back. He wanted Steve.

“It’s time to go.”

The bird scared him. When she flapped her wings, little red flowers came down. He tried eating them and it hurt his mouth. She had laughed at first but grew quiet when he did not. He had a sense he was doing something wrong. Bad Bucky, Bad. She didn’t make red flowers anymore. Always put them out if she did.

Words lost their meaning but the boy didn’t. He wanted to be with the boy. The predator stopped him with a gentled purr. The predator was nice. Sam was nice. He smelled like him. Fierce and wild and safe. But he didn’t like grooming. Burrs stuck to his pale coat. He hated flies, horseflies and mayflies that flew into his eye. He plunged into a pond just to get away and he saw the firebird watch him with pity in her eyes.

Days blurred. Sometimes he pushed against a tree trunk to stand on two legs. Every day, he followed the boy who visited the forest. The boy who should live in a bigger village with a bigger house that sounded a lot like ‘castle’ in his abscessed head. The boy must be tired. Maybe he could help the boy.

Leaves faded from trees. Yet the boy came and went. His ears pricked up when he saw him.

“Can’t you just.”

“I cannot _just_. I lied to him. I lied that Bucky left him. I’ve already dosed him with a misdirection tonic twice. Believe me, it is much more difficult to get it wrong.”

“He has a new life now. New friends. He needs to leave Bucky alone.”

“He’s waiting for him.”

“By waiting, you mean love.”

“Love is for children.”

A raccoon waddled up to him.

“Hey Luis, how’s it going?”

“Hey Sam, nothing much. My girl left me.”

“Ah...”

“I lost my tree.”

“Uh...”

“But I brought waffles. See. I thought Bucky would like them because he lived with the humans. So I grabbed these off a dish even though you know, I’m a more pancake guy.”

Another raccoon landed on top of the first.

“Sam! Sarge! Rumlow!”

“Damn, not a good time Dernier.”

Did he know a Rumlow? Rumlow drew up images of wolves. Vicious, nasty things. He reared up and pawed the air. Rumlow was in the forest? Steve was in the forest! Steve was in danger.

“Hold your horses, Bucky!!”

Sam screeched after him as he plowed through the snow. The snow came to his hips and he flailed for a bit before rolling to his side. He had to get to Steve. Steve was small and defenseless. He didn’t even have an extra pair of socks!

“You.”

Steve was waiting for him on the forest path. Steve was safe and oops—Bucky forgot he wasn’t supposed to show himself.

But Bucky had manners and nickered in welcome. Steve put a hand in his pocket and he bobbed his head hopefully, expecting an apple or a piece of bread. Instead, Steve took out a knife and pointed at him.

“I know you.” Steve said. “You used to bring me gifts when I was young. I saw you.”

Steve had a knife. Why did Steve have a knife? Bucky dredged up memories of play-fighting as a knobby-kneed colt. Did Steve want to play? He lowered his head and spread his legs far apart.

“Give him back.”

He didn’t understand.

“Bucky’s my friend. He, he loves me. He wouldn’t have left without telling me why. So give him back. I don’t care if I get sick again. Please. You brought him to me, you can bring him back again.”

He lunged forward. The knife was little more than a nuisance in his shoulder as Steve fell to the side, cushioned by the snow bank. Rumlow snapped the air and he could feel his breath skirt across his brow. Bucky screamed his fury and his hooves missed the wolf by mere centimeters.

His memories were hazy but his body remembered. He dropped his head once more and charged, catching Rumlow in the stomach. Rumlow yelped pitifully and curled into a ball, expecting to be gored in the stomach but landing face-first in the snow.

The wolf popped back up like a mole in the grass.

“Oh this is rich.” He sneezed, eyes bugging out. “You’re ordinary—you ain’t got a horn no more!”

Steve scrambled to his feet and threw a fistful of snow which struck Rumlow in the eye. Bucky taught him well.

“Leave us alone!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get yours real soon.” The wolf snarled. “This isn’t personal.”

Wolves emerged from the shadows, breath steaming in the cold. They sniffed at them, saw a hornless unicorn and a boy, and sang little love notes at Rumlow to show their appreciation. Furious, Steve kicked at the snow hoping to scare them off. Hadn’t Bucky told him that wolves were cowards? Chicken-livered frady-cats who picked on mice than actual game.

Rumlow licked his chops. “Sic ‘em boys!”

“No Stop!” Steve screamed.

Bucky pivoted on a dime, smashing both hind legs into a wolf with an unfortunate sense of timing. The wolf skipped like a pebble across water and laid still. He could hear it gurgle over the shocked silence and when a crow rang the dinner bell with a raucous caw, he jumped and brought his feet down on the next wolf to get in his way.

Rollins expertly ducked out of the way and pounced. His teeth scraped along his spine as the wolf scrabbled for purchase and took a mile off his hide. Blood hit snow and whipped the pack into a frenzy as they darted in one by one, each eager for a pound of flesh. Bucky went down hard as one of them bit into Steve’s little knife and twisted, leg snapping audibly beneath him. He wailed in pain and crashed down on Rumlow, who didn’t get out of the way fast enough, pinning the wolf against the packed earth.

Steve ran to him and threw his arms around his head.

“Come on, get up, get up, get up!” And Bucky was trying. He churned the mix of blood and snow and earth beneath his feet like butter as he struggled to get up and Rumlow was just about yelling his head off, insulting his mother and her mother and her mother too. “Bucky, get up!”

The wolves circled them, eager to finish him off when a shadow blotted out the sun. A part of Bucky feared the shadow but the part of him that was purely him, welcomed the burst of heat on his face. Natasha grabbed a wolf and launched herself into the air where she could drop it in the trees.  

In the sky, Sam roared. 

Even Rumlow wasn’t stupid enough to go toe to toe with both Natasha and Sam.

The wolves fled.

“Stay away.” Steve said shakily. The knife in his hand was wet with blood. More of it welled out from the brand on Bucky’s left shoulder. Steve knew. “I’m warning you. Stay back!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” The griffon swallowed, folding his wings to make himself appear less threatening. “We’re Bucky’s friends.”

The knife dropped and Steve fell apart.

“I didn’t.” He hiccuped. “I didn’t _mean_ to. I just wanted to find him.”

“We know.” Natasha sat on his lap, light as a feather, the heat of her body solid enough to lend its own weight. “Bucky didn’t want to be found.”

“Wanda lied to me.”

Bucky whinnied his protest. Sam winced when he saw the shattered knees, raw and red like ground up rabbits in a Christmas pie. He inched forward on his belly, blood smeared across his feathers. It didn’t look good. Bucky didn’t look good. He’d seen horses put down for less.

“I only said what you needed to know.”

“Wanda!” Steve exclaimed in visible relief at a familiar face. “Bucky’s hurt! Can you help him?”

Wanda spread her hands, magic sparking off her fingertips. Bucky’s leg straightened and his eyes rolled in their sockets from the pain. Steve held him still, cooing into his ear.

“Bucky, Buck. It’s okay. She’s trying to help.”

Light dissipated and her shoulders fell in a slump.

“I can heal the flesh. I cannot mend bones. Buchanan is suffering.”

Steve deliberately ignored her words.

“What can I do to help?”

A wry grin crossed the witch’s lips.

“Tell him the truth.”

Steve sat back woolgathering as he traced abstract patterns across Bucky’s bare face.

“I got invited to the palace.” He finally said with a swallow. Everyone else stepped back a respectful distance as he struggled to gather his courage. “I said I’d only go if you were allowed—that’s what I wanted to ask you during our last dinner together. I wanted you to go with me because what’s me without you? You promised to stay until the end of the line Bucky and I’m going to hold you to that.”

Tears dotted his forehead.

“I love you.”

Steve.

Steve had no horns or claws or magic to enchant with but he did love the boy with a star on his shoulder, the sometimes unicorn with a penchant for stupid ideas. His heart cracked wide open and sloughed off its old shell. Bigger and better and brighter like someone lit a lantern inside without telling him.

Pressure built behind his eyes. His muzzle melted into lips. Limbs became whole and his body twisted back into its human shape, boneless and dreaming as though he had never left bed in the house he shared with the boy he loved.

“Am I dreaming?” Bucky mumbled, clumsily pushing his hand into Steve’s hair. He accidentally smacked the boy in the chin. “I swear Stevie, you’ve gotten _heavy_.”

Steve laughed with a kind of desperate joy as he grabbed Bucky’s hand. His promise ring winked in his eye as he said gravely, “Never leave okay?”

“Never leaving.” Bucky agreed. “Not without you.”

Sam rolled his eyes so hard he was getting flashbacks to when he was an egg.

“Drama queens.”

“Put on some clothes.” Wanda interrupted rudely.

Bucky flipped them off as they kissed.

And they lived happily ever after.

 

**Author's Note:**

> “Hey, so I’m Sam. I’m the one who taught this idiot how to catch rabbits.”  
> “Uh okay.”  
> Sam squinted at that dissatisfying answer.  
> “He did catch you rabbits right?”  
> “What rabbits?” After a moment, Steve said. “Oh, Becca.”  
> “Becca?”  
> “Yeah, the rabbit he found in the forest. She was injured. We let her go.”


End file.
